


The Equinox and the Garden

by Pandorascube



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Inspired by Ariadne and Dionysus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Ovid's Heroides, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22244002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandorascube/pseuds/Pandorascube
Summary: One night at the Malfoy Harvest ball, everything changes.Modern retelling of Ariadne, Theseus, and Dionysus through Hermione, Ron, and Draco. Written in the style of Greek Tragedy complete with purple prose, Deus ex Machina, the three unities, and a poetic chorus of House Elves.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 15
Kudos: 18
Collections: Where Gods Dwell: A Dramione Fest





	1. Scene 1

“All wild beasts are gentler than you, and not one could have abused my trust more than you.”

Ovid, _Heroides,_ “Ariadne to Theseus”

**Characters**

A Chorus, house-elves of pureblood families

Hermione Granger

Ron Weasley

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy

Time and scene: An autumn night in the gardens of Malfoy Manor

A few years post Deathly Hallows, EWE

A Ball to celebrate the Harvest Moon, Festival of Mabon

_Enter a chorus of house elves from various pureblood families._

How wonderful to live a life of duty,

Our purpose at all times clear.

Our magical gods who sustain us

Give us security from uncertain fear.

How great to be useful, of service, 

To our gods who ask but one thing:

Steadfastness and loyalty to our house,

Servitude and obedience our offering.

How peaceful this half of a decade’s been,

The Dark Lord’s reign finally at an end.

Our masters allowed a life of peace,

Worries and struggles soon to cease.

Where once we attacked evil with knives,

Now our tools are used to feed lives.

Where once we were messengers of fright,

Now we please our charges in the light

How glorious to accompany our gods,

For the time of the equinox is nigh, 

In their celebration of a good harvest,

A traditional gala, with spirits high.

Our hostess is the great line of Malfoy,

Radiant as if she has not borne the yoke,

As if she has not suffered as an outcast,

Trying to revive the son and life He broke.

All wizards of Britain are in attendance,

Of course the sacred pureblooded descendants,

Muggle-born and half-blooded as well,

The Golden Trio who went through hell,

Who awed the world with their story.

All heritages united to bring glory.

Though the world is slow to change,

Hope no longer seems so strange.

_Hermione storms through the manor doors followed by Ron, both dressed to the nines. She pauses at the ornate balcony, huffs, and then storms down the stairs into the lush gardens._

Ron: ‘Mione! You’re being bloody ridiculous. _(He follows her down the stairs.)_

Hermione: Leave me alone, Ronald.

Ron: That’s not really an option with the scene you made in there.

Hermione: The scene… You’re always so worried about the scene. “We’ll talk about it at home, ‘Mione,” “There could be cameras, ‘Mione,” “They’re just fans, ‘Mione,” “Not now, ‘Mione.” For someone who chews with his mouth open, you sure worry a lot about decorum.

Ron: Is it wrong to want to conduct our bickering in private? Sometimes you say the most outrageous things.

Hermione: “The most outrageous things?” Fuck off! You definitely didn’t follow me to see how I was. You certainly don’t care that I’m upset. Do you even care how I feel? Do you even notice how I feel?

Ron: Hermione, love, of course, I care about how you feel, and honestly, you never make it hard to notice when you’re upset. The drink to my face even lets me know it was something I did. 

Hermione: You don’t get it. It’s like you’re purposely oblivious and now I look like a madwoman. 

Ron: You’re not a madwoman. I know that. Maybe a bit sensitive...

Hermione: Sensitive? I don’t think it’s sensitive to want my fiancé to pay more attention to me than to Lavender Brown’s tits!

Ron: Oh, Merlin. We’re doing this again?

Hermione: Yes, we’re doing this again! I _know_ there is something going on! You must think me stupid if you’re denying it.

Ron: Right, the brightest witch of the age thinks there is something going on, and so I must be cheating on you with Lavender Brown.

Hermione: Stop it! Stop saying it like that. I know… I know there is something going on. 

Ron: Hermione, what makes you think that? You know I love you.

Hermione: I saw how you looked at her, how you leered at her.

Ron: Maybe you are a madwoman. 

Hermione: Ronald Bilius Weasley! 

Ron: Hermione Jean Granger! I was just being friendly. Stop being such a jealous swot.

Hermione: You’re the worst. I don’t know what is wrong with you!

Ron: The only thing wrong with me is how much I adore you. I’m outside with you, not Lavender Brown! What more do you want? No one is as radiant as you tonight. Why would my gaze stray from your elegant face? _(He draws her in, caressing her face, gazing into her eyes.)_

Hermione: You can’t just do that. You can’t just say nice things to me and expect all to be forgiven.

Ron: Are you sure? You’re the smartest, most beautiful, sexiest witch in the whole Manor. I don’t want to fight with you. It’s the Harvest Ball. The equinox is a powerful and beautiful thing. Like you, love. _(He kisses her softly, pulling her into his arms)_

Hermione: I don’t want to fight either, but…

Ron: Then let’s not. We don’t have to fight.

Hermione: But, Ron, it’s like when we were young all over again. Watching you with her was so hard.

Ron: Being with her made me realize how perfect you were, Hermione. Who did I call out for in my sleep when Malfoy poisoned me? You.

Hermione: It still… seeing you flirt with her-

Ron: I wasn’t flirting with her! _(He sighs exasperatedly, and she pulls away from him.)_

Hermione: I watched you flirt with her and practically drool over that trashy dress! 

Ron: You’re being unreasonable. I told you that didn’t happen. I told you nothing is going on.

Hermione: So I should just forget what I saw based on what? Your pretty words? 

Ron: You’re supposed to trust me. Why are we doing this if you don’t trust me?

Hermione: I… Of course, I trust you. I wouldn’t be marrying you if I didn’t.

Ron: Exactly, would the brightest witch-

Hermione: Stop with the brightest witch shite!

Ron: Exactly, would the Golden Girl-

Hermione: Not that either.

Ron: Would Hermione Jean Granger marry someone she doesn’t trust?

Hermione: I suppose not. Of course, I trust you. We’ve fought dark wizards, trolls, Basilisks, Devil’s Snare-

Ron: We don’t need the whole run down, love. You know me, Hermione. You know you trust me. You know you love me. You know I love you. Let’s go back inside. _(Reaches for her arm, she moves out of reach.)_

Hermione: I do… I do. Please, I just need a minute.

Ron: Alright, love. I’ll get us something to drink and we can sit out here together for a bit. 

_Ron Exits._

Hermione: Sometimes… sometimes he seems so manipulative. I saw it. I saw the way he looked at her and the way she looked at him. He doesn’t look at me like that anymore. I swear their hands brushed at the buffet. There were glances and secret smiles, I swear I saw it. Am I just overreacting? I suppose my perception could be off. When I see that woman, parading around indecently, seemingly all for him, batting her eyes at her _Won-Won_ , my blood boils and my face fills with fire. Perhaps… Perhaps, I just can’t see straight when it comes to her. 

I know he loves me. Sure, our courtship was… irregular, but he was a constant friend. We danced around each other for years, like ships passing in the night. We would almost come together and then… Well, we were young and I don’t regret those years of playing chicken with each other. How sweet is the first taste of tea in the morning? How achingly familiar is the scent of home after a long trip? How much better is the happy ending of a book when the journey is over a thousand pages? 

And we bumbled at first! Horribly! His insensitive words and all my silly tears. The troll incident and my stupid crush on Professor Lockheart. Our fights about Scabbers and Crookshanks. There was even that time I sent birds to attack him! I tried to win his affection at the Quidditch tryouts, only to be a victim of his horrid ego. And he was so jealous of Viktor and Cormac. Am I now the irrationally jealous one?

But, we vanquished darkness together. We comforted each other when Dumbledore died. He gave me the couch at Grimmauld Place, our hands lightly touching through the night. I was crushed when he left us in the Forest of Dean, but even Dumbledore knew he would come back. All would have been lost, but in the nick of time, he rescued Harry at the frozen lake and saved the sword. He was finally the one who destroyed the cursed locket that almost destroyed us. And then, amidst the darkness of the Chamber, we came together in a desperate and searching kiss. I miss that kiss. I miss that girl and that boy. I miss the surety that comes from avoiding a moment of certain death. Every breath a kiss, and every kiss a decision to hope.

He is all the things that I want. Brave and clever. He sacrificed himself at the Wizard’s Chessboard in our first year and accessed the Chamber of Secrets in second. He faced spiders with Harry in the forest and even saved Tonks the frightful night of Harry’s rescue. And family is his life, especially the ones he’s chosen, like me and Harry. He defended me quite a lot, standing up to Malfoy and Snape. He rescued Harry from the Dursleys in that horrible flying car and kept Harry from trying to set out on his own that last year. He left the Ministry for George, has always tried to protect Ginny from boys, and adores Charlie and Bill. He wears his mother’s sweaters like badges of honor. 

And he is with me. Every day, he comes home to me. He takes care of me. When I fall asleep reading on the couch, he covers me up or puts me to bed. When I work so long I forget to eat, he brings me dinner. We cried together when my scars wouldn’t heal. When my parents’ memories couldn’t be restored, he mourned with me. When I successfully pushed the legislation for house-elf rights through, he celebrated with me. He dances with me and makes love to me like I’m a goddess. He pushes my hair behind my ear when it escapes. He snogs me in the shower and kisses me in the kitchen. He teases quite insufferably and tries to make me blush. He is finally friendly with Crookshanks. He asked me to marry him. What are Lavender Brown’s tits to all that? Perhaps I am a silly witch.

I feel a storm coming, though. I thought the nightmares of my past had lulled, but I have recently begun to wake again, sweating and scared, the faintest recollection of a cliffside and a nasty wind. Sometimes, a golden hand reaches for me pulling me from the desolate island, lifting my spirits with the scent of flowers. Still, I feel empty and alone after these dreams, despite the comforting warmth of Ron beside me. 

_She moves off-center to sit at a bench_


	2. Scene 2

_The elves are back_

None love as the Golden Girl of Gryffindor, 

Our heroine, the champion of the meek.

For the maligned, the wretched, the outcast,

Those without voices, we hear her speak.

Like Boudica who took up the mantle of war

To defend her people from invaders of Rome.

Although a superior force left her beaten, 

Valiantly she fought for others and home.

She is as brilliant as the weird Wendelin, 

Who burned again and again for mortal sin,

Who turned the flames and fire to frost,

To assure Muggle prejudice had no cost.

Even Ariadne with her clever string

Saved Theseus, gave up everything,

Betrayed her cursed and evil blood

Despite her triumph, was left in the mud.

How great it is to live a life of peace,

Never called to face the hard path,

Never forced to choose heroics or love,

Not born to trial and truth’s heavy wrath. 

May we have a love that is easy and green,

Never souring as the envious Lady of Grey, 

Never violent as the fiery blood of the Baron,

But pure as the love of the mother ripped away.

A life of loss for our brightest witch,

From Muggle to Mudblood quite a switch,

Sacrificed her parents to keep from harms,

Her awkward childhood spent up in arms,

Rejected by the world of her dreams,

Curses carved amid her screams.

Still, she shines a light, brave and true,

Like a crown of stars, hung anew.

_Harry enters and comes down the stairs, Hermione rises to greet him._

Hermione: Oh, Harry… I’m sorry. I must look a mess.

Harry: Hermione… 

Hermione: You don’t have to do this. I’m fine. We’re fine. Just a little spat.

Harry: No, Hermione…

Hermione: You know we don’t expect you to get in the middle anyway. I know it can be hard being friends with us both. And I would never-

Harry: Hermione! He’s gone. _(Grabs her arms, pulling her attention.)_

Hermione: What? Who? What do you mean gone?

Harry: Ron. He’s gone.

Hermione: He was going to get us drinks. I don’t understand. What do you mean he’s gone? He must be in the bathroom or maybe he stepped outside for a moment. 

Harry: Hermione, I don’t think- _(She frees herself, stepping back)_

Hermione: Maybe there was an emergency at the joke shop or with his family. He’ll send a Patronus and let us know what’s going on.

Harry: He left with Lavender. 

Hermione: ( _long pause)_ What?

Harry: Hermione, love, sit down. _(Guides her back to her bench.)_

Ginny and I were waiting anxiously for you both to come back to the party. We danced together, trying to stay close to the doors as the rest of the party returned to their feasting and revelry. Sure, there was tittering about the drama of your relationship, but old pureblood biddies have so little to cluck about these days. Barely anyone saw Ron enter in a huff through the balcony doors. Lavender Brown, however, was waiting, hidden in a sculptured alcove nearby. She gave him a longing look and caught his arm, trying to ensnare her prey. He shook her off, then held her at arm’s length as she reached back for him, desperation in her eyes. There was a moment where they stared at each other in woe. He lifted a hand to her cheek to wipe a wayward tear. Then he turned quickly, face a mix of emotions, glancing around in hopes that no one had noticed. We noticed, as did apparently one other. Ron’s destination seemed to be the crowded bar, eyes set on the mulled cider fountain. 

We moved to intercept him, but we weren’t fast enough, for Draco Malfoy, of all people, caught his arm, rage flashing in his grey eyes dangerously. Uncharacteristically, his countenance seemed one of a man on the edge, alabaster skin flushed, white-blond coif in harried disarray. Even his smirk was twisted into a ferocious sneer. We paused, confused and intrigued, as they exchanged words in a fierce whisper. It was obvious that poison spilled from their lips. Ron reached for his wand, but Malfoy stilled his hand, moving in closer. Ron resorted to fists at this point, glancing a blow across his chin. The pair separated, Draco laughing haughtily and Ron red with anger. 

Draco spoke louder now, denouncing him to all in attendance. “You are but a peasant beneath her, you are a worm under the ground on which she treads. Her shining star is dulled by your presence, and your betrayal is a crime against the gods.” Ron was speechless at the words which seemed to echo through the great hall. His face began to twist from rage to epiphany, and he let out a long laugh. Draco grabbed him by the lapel at this point, wand forgotten and fist at the ready. His righteous anger seemed to deflate in him as Ron hissed fierce words meant only for the Malfoy heir. They parted quickly, Malfoy to the bar and Ron back toward the balcony.

We were unable to prevent this, blame Ginny’s shoes, or perhaps blame fate. Perhaps the harvest gods were on your side or even Lavender’s. I cannot pretend to know your mind, but believe that if I had any idea of Ron’s game, I would surely have gotten in the middle of things. I have watched love bloom between my best friends and also watched as, like the changing of the seasons, a seemingly preordained partnership failed and withered.

The crowds dispersed to discuss the excitement, but Ginny and I sought out her brother. We found him at the alcove where earlier he met Lavender. The statue of Aphrodite and Eros presided over a destitute looking man. His face was buried in his arms and his fingers pulled his fiery hair. Ginny and I watched a moment, loathe to interrupt his mourning and self-flagellation. After a moment of awkward silence, Ginny grabbed my hand and pulled me from his presence. The next we saw him, he was clinging to Lavender’s hand like a lifeline as they departed the alcove. The contentious maiden paused to touch the face of Eros before following Ron from the Manor.

I am sorry to bring you such news, but remember this is the harvest time. We take our sustenance from the earth and survive the dark times. The leaves die and after a time, others grow in place of them. The bushes and trees take on a gloomy countenance, but spring will come and again they will thicken and flower with life. A rose bush enters a dormant state to protect itself from the hard times of winter, walls thickening and roots expanding, preserving its precious life until the spring. 

Hermione: I am not a rose bush.

Harry: What?

Hermione: _(She rises)_ I am not a rose bush! I am not a tree or a flower or a leaf. If you speak of a Phoenix rising from the ashes, I will burn down your house. 

Harry: I’m just trying… _(Puts up his hands in defense.)_ I know. I wish I were more than just the messenger. I don’t know what I can do for you.

Hermione: I understand. Please. Leave me alone. 

Harry: I can’t stay with you?

Hermione: I need some time. Go back to the party and Ginny.

_Harry kisses her forehead and exits._

I can’t do this. I don’t know how. I don’t want to weather the winter. I don’t know how to harden my walls and protect my roots. Fucking Harry poetic Potter! If I am a tree, I am the Whomping fucking Willow, angry branches flailing, trying too late to protect myself. And here comes Ronald goddamned Weasley, flying into me with his stupid enchanted car.

_She moves to the side of the stage by her bench_


	3. Scene 3

_The elves are back again_

What does one do with the blinding grief,

The gaping loss inflicted by a faithless love?

Echoes of past time together haunting,

How to survive when push comes to shove?

Dido, roughly abandoned for a Roman’s duty,

So mourned their future which he forsook.

She chose gracious Death as her new lover,

Giving life without Aeneas no second look.

Is there a potion which will heal the heart,

Mending what was brutally torn apart?

A hurt heart lashes out, untempered flame,

Bridges turned to ash, humanity to shame.

The scorned, bloody Baron saw this side,

The rejection cut deep, his love denied.

Medea sought a retribution like his case,

Murder to punish a cold embrace.

None can match the iron heart of Theseus,

Saved from the horns of the minotaur by a girl,

Ariadne, betraying her father, her brother, and her land.

Victorious they flew from Crete, new love a pearl.

Her bitter regret screamed from the shores

As he sailed from her side, leaving her bereft,

Abandoned, alone, ruined, betrothed to the air.

Surely a maiden’s heart is the worst kind of theft

Shield of the helpless, our savior’s golden one,

Most clever in all the tales and epic ballads spun.

Perhaps no man is deserving, all efforts profane,

So sacred is your character, bravery, and brain

Let no permanent choices come of this loss.

The ache of fleeting love should never be boss.

It hurts more to know that these wounds heal,

Time and fortune will dull what you feel.

Hermione: I stood here, in the waning garden, unaware, while he plotted! How absurd. How dare he? He cannot change my life on a whim while I wait for a glass of cider. We are happily engaged! I know he wants to wed me at the Burrow as all the people we love watch, to live happily together. He wants to see our family grow until we’re three, and four, and five, but hopefully not quite nine. He took my hand and promised me a future. This was our plan! We would watch them go off to Hogwarts, equally proud of their Muggle-born mother and pureblood father. We talked about this! They would grow up in a beautiful world that we helped create together. He would not just burn down this world of ours. He would not just leave me here to suffer in this garden. 

I wish I still had a Time-Turner. I could go back thirty minutes and distract myself, never to notice Lavender Brown’s intrusion. He would still come home to me, and I could live in blissful ignorance. I could have that life we planned. I could even go back ten minutes, follow him back into the party, trust in his guilt to shame him. Let him spend his life making this indiscretion right between us. Or I could even go back to our sixth year and tell him how I feel. I could obliterate his entire history with Lavender Brown. There would be only me. There would be only us. I could prevent him from ever leaving in the Forest of Dean. How strong would our love be now if we had weathered the fight as a warrior duo? I should have worn the locket every hour of every day to prevent him from the vile thoughts that I’m sure have stayed with him. They stay with me. This has to be that magic because this is not my Ron. Nothing else makes sense! I can fight the magic and we can be us again. There has to be a spell, an antidote. Even now, we can fix this. 

I can fix this. I could fix this. 

But, wait… Why the fuck would I fix this? Is this who I am? So lost without Ronald Bilius Weasley that I would bargain with Time himself to live a life with a man who couldn’t keep his hands off of Lavender Brown? He is a villain with a heart of stone who spews empty, cruel words. He lied to me in this garden. He lied to me with this ring. He lied to me every day. And worse, he made me doubt my own mind! My mind, which is sacred to me. He made me question my observations and responses. I stood out here, thinking I was silly, thinking I was irrationally jealous, while he proved all my suspicions true.

Fuck the spring, I am winter itself. I am what the garden fears and I am the months of trials that the people harvest to endure. Purebloods laughed in my face when I showed up in this world and they choked on their words at my ferocity. Bellatrix _Crucio_ ed me and I refused to crack. Voldemort was nothing in the face of Harry Potter’s Mudblood. The Wizengamot must weather my fury and crusades. Anyone who thinks to make the small feel smaller knows to hush their voice when I enter the room. I am justice and I am vengeance. 

If my past has taught anyone anything, it is that I am not a woman to be trifled with. I gave Ron and Harry the strings to free them from the labyrinths of Voldemort’s plots. From the first year of our friendship, I was their Athena, guiding them with my wisdom and honor. At our first bout with evil, I held the key to vanquish the Devil’s Snare and unveiled the poison to pass Snape’s test. Even as the Basilisk hunted me, I led them to the truth so they could find the Chamber of Secrets. I was their constant source of logic and information through all our years. Ronald Weasley would have been nothing without me. And who sparked the idea of Dumbledore’s Army? Who devised the Protean Charm to evade wicked Umbridge’s reign of terror? I faced down a giant with barely a blink! I defeated Umbridge herself so we could face the Death Eaters that fateful night at the Ministry. Who would have saved my boys at Bill and Fleur’s wedding if not me? Neither could Apparate and neither was prepared for our time on the run. It was me, my skills, and my bottomless bag. 

Oh, Ron. I wish we had never helped Harry kill Voldemort and that you had perished! No… No. I don’t. I may have the heart for spite, but no, I suppose not actual vengeance. Perhaps I should have died in the manor with Bellatrix. I fear death less than this pain. All my thoughts, all my fears, all my anger cannot help me outmaneuver this pain. This pain is like a fire in my chest, my stomach, my head. Please let it be a healing fire, burning the old, dead branches to make room for new life. 

But I don’t want a new life. I want the love I was promised.

Who will love me now? He was my family. Oh my gods, my family. He was the only family I had left. Now I am alone, so achingly alone. I gave up everything for him. I betrayed my parents, removing myself from their minds for this man and our quest. Now I have nothing. I made a terrible sacrifice to win this war. Shouldn’t I at least get my spoils? Perhaps I should have Obliviated myself, as well. I could do it still. I could remove this pain, I could remove this man from me like sickly pus from a wound. But no, I would still be walking around with a gaping hole in my chest, a yearning I didn’t understand. A ghost, wandering, not knowing why I was so lost, with no memory of the problem I needed to solve.

My whole body feels like fire and like ice at once. This whole evening has been so surreal. There is a ringing in my ears, a panic that calls for fight or flight. The garden seems to resonate with my grief, I can feel its energy and anticipation. The plants have done their duty and now will rest through Demeter’s mourning time. Will the garden mourn with me, as well? That man has certainly harvested my love and my light and left me a broken stalk. I should stay here, dormant, curled under bushes and trees until spring, or slink to the Underworld to live with Hades like Persephone.

But no, I will just wear this pain, the same as the rest, a badge of honor for all the fights we’ve lost. A gaping, bleeding wound splashed over the papers, bare for the world to see. Hermione Granger, once heroine, now victim. He has taken so much more than he can imagine! I am not built to be a victim, but what else will they see? I know my words and feats speak volumes, but how much more exciting is the silence of a broken woman? My strengths lie in the plain, unpopular, and secure truths. My nature is to push, shame, and reason to achieve rightness. The spotlight has no need of what is true and what is right. 

This will be a long winter to endure. It is as I’ve dreamt. I turn to the bench beside me where once my lover rested in my arms, met only by the harsh wind and a cold emptiness. A ship moves from the natural harbor, and I know that ship was once my home. That ship holds all my hopes, all my plans. In the dream, I drop to my knees in anguish then leap to follow the shore to cliffs, my heart breaking as the cruel wind moves the ship faster away. “Turn back!” I cry, wishing for wings. I have never felt as alone as I do in that dream. Well, except for now. In the last one, my spirit sang to me that something was coming. It sang of hope and of change. It lied to me. There is no hope in this garden, no ethereal figure to save me from the barren wasteland that is my grief. I didn’t harvest in preparation for this winter. I didn’t know I would need to.

_She moves off-center, back to her bench_


	4. Scene 4

_More elf poetry_

We know of such an ethereal figure,

Much like the tale that you dreamed.

Abandoned Ariadne, quite distraught,

But the ending was not as it seemed.

Those who are patient and wise 

Speak of doors opening and closing.

They speak of life springing forth

Greater than the loss opposing.

Would the gods abandon to strife

A girl who sacrificed her land and life?

Or would they send their joyous son

To honor sacrifice and triumph won?

Could Theseus ever be deserving

Of a maiden, so far from self-serving?

The treachery and violence of Crete

Was surely vanquished by her feat.

Would fickle Theseus, filled with hubris,

So pale in comparison to her deeds,

So diminished by her valor and strength

Ever be one worthy to meet her needs?

The island of her doom opened its treasures,

Gardens and revels revealed at last.

Enter the patriarch of festive abandon,

The casks of wine and merriment vast.

Vaster still the room in his heart, 

Wide as her anguish tore it apart

Love must be courageous, never tame,

Dionysus was struck with a torrid flame.

He wiped the tears from her eyes.

Eros had never made a match so wise.

Let every woman cut to the soul

Find a wild god to love her whole.

_Draco Enters and gazes out from the balcony, searching._

Hermione: You! _(Rises from the bench.)_ Of all the people I expected to come gloat at the spectacular disaster of my life, you? Really, Malfoy, it’s overkill.

Draco: I’m not here for that, Hermione. 

Hermione: Granger. 

Draco: You haven’t been Granger to me for a long time. _(He descends the stairs.)_

Hermione: What the fuck does that even mean? We are nothing to each other. Sure, we have moved from enemies and rivals into comfortable acquaintances. We are survivors of a shared traumatic time, but… You say my name with such weight. It sounds ridiculous coming from you. 

Draco: I know. My life is ridiculous these days.

Hermione: I can’t do this with you right now. _(Slumps back down on the bench.)_ I don’t know what you want or why you’re out here. And I don’t know why you even got involved. Are you here to see the aftermath? Can you smell and taste my grief in the air? Does it make you happy to see my broken heart painted all over my body?

Draco: Hermione-

Hermione: Don’t call me that!

Draco: Granger, then. Of course, I’m not happy to see you in pain. Sure, we started as enemies, I mean, I was threatened by your intellect and wrong-

Hermione: You had better not be wasting my time with some tiringly practiced, planned yet somehow heartfelt apology speech. I’ve seen this trope before.

Draco: Well, then…

Hermione: Just stop. Just go!

Draco: Can I sit with you?

Hermione: No! _(Stands)_

Draco: I couldn’t just watch it. I couldn’t just watch what he was doing to you.

Hermione: Yes, you could have. It’s called minding your business and staying out of things that don’t involve you. Don’t you think the situation was embarrassing enough without Draco Malfoy defending my honor? Don’t you think a petty squabble would be better than the whole of wizarding society witnessing my betrayal and subsequent abandonment?

Draco: I’m sorry. I lost my temper. You’re right.

Hermione: Oh no. Don’t do that. That is worse. Draco Malfoy admitting he’s wrong and sorry is so much worse. Go back to that shoddy apology speech or fight with me again. 

Draco: You’re a bloody mess. 

Hermione: I changed my mind. Fuck you.

Draco: You’re a divine, crazy banshee and your life is a trainwreck I haven’t been able to look away from for some time.

Hermione: Oi! This is your fault!

Draco: This is that ugly weasel’s fault and yours, for ever thinking he’d be worth the shite he puts you through.

Hermione: Oh fuck. _(Turns from him, in hysterics.)_

Draco: Are you laughing or crying?

Hermione: I don’t bloody know anymore. 

Draco: You’re magnificent. Watching you from my Wizengamot seat, listening to you shame and bully the decrepit patriarchy is the best part of my life. Sure, we’re just acquaintances to you, but to me... _(He reaches for her, she moves away)_

Hermione: Don’t do this.

Draco: Hermione…

Hermione: Granger.

Draco: Granger.

Hermione: Now you’ve managed to say my last name ridiculously, too.

Draco: Stop interrupting me, witch.

Hermione: You interrupted my life. We were going to work it out, I know it. We could have fixed it. How can we fix it now that you’ve pressed the issue, now that you’ve made him choose? You with your absurdly poetic words about a relationship of which you only see the surface.

Draco: You wouldn’t have made him choose? You would be content to share an unworthy man with a harlot like Brown?

Hermione: No... I-

Draco: You would let his pedestrian treatment of your love and of your honor continue?

Hermione: Of course not-

Draco: Then how-

Hermione: Because everything has changed now! Sure, it might have dragged on without your interference, but I would have had a choice. I would have had my dignity and my privacy. Now all I have left is a few more moments in this garden before I debut as Hermione Granger, woman wronged, woman fooled, woman broken. 

Draco: I didn’t mean to take that choice from you.

Hermione: Petty theft, I’m sure. _(pause)_ What did he say to you? Harry said you were going to hit him and then you didn’t.

Draco: It’s not important. Suffice it to say, it didn’t seem worth it to bloody my knuckles. A brawl at the Harvest Ball? My mother would have _Crucio_ ed me herself.

Hermione: It is important. Besides, I would have liked it better if he had a black eye or a bloody nose.

Draco: There’s still time.

Hermione: What did he say?

Draco: He said, “She’ll never love a Death Eater like you. I may be the worm, but you’re the dirt.” ( _long pause_ ) I know-

Hermione: I’m not blind. I see what you go through and I know you’re not the cruel, brainwashed bully anymore. I’ve seen you fight your own battles with the Wizengamot and drag the Malfoy name, kicking and screaming, into a new era. I’ve watched the press crucify you and belittle every good thing you try to put into the world. It doesn’t stop you. You press forward as if no one can prevent you from atoning.

Draco: No one can. I’m not a saint now, but no one can stop me from trying to do good after all the evil my family let into the world. I know it will never be enough, but I will do anything to prevent a dark power from invading my home again. ( _He grasps her arm, turning it over to reveal her scar.)_ I will do anything to never feel as helpless as I did when you got this. I thought your screams would haunt me forever, but instead, I’m haunted by your courage. You would have stopped her, even if it was me being tortured. You wear this scar fiercely as if it were a badge or a medal you received from the war. 

Hermione: _(She pulls her arm back, inspecting the scar for herself.)_ I glamoured it away for almost a year. Then one day, I didn’t. It wasn’t conscious. I’m not fiercely waving my war wounds around. 

Draco: Maybe it was subconscious, but I remember that day. You made a rather impassioned speech about werewolf rights in the chamber, spoke about how we as a society cannot abuse those who didn’t choose their nature. It actually makes a funny amount of sense that you didn’t mean to flaunt your own trauma, but it happened anyway. You really stuck it to the blowhards who were too impotent to defend the Ministry from the Dark Lord. 

Hermione: It wasn’t meant to shame the prejudiced. I just didn’t want to spend that minute every day remembering Bellatrix. And four years later I’m still being filibustered.

Draco: How else could anyone deal with you?

Hermione: Prat.

Draco: You will still do it. 

Hermione: No, not the poor, weak woman jilted by a Weasley. Who could ever take me seriously?

Draco: Anyone who characterizes you as weak is an idiot, especially following this. Hell hath no fury and all that. Play that card. Bellatrix was much more formidable than that ginger arse or the loathsome press, and I watched you protect Harry to her face.

Hermione: The world is not ready for the vengeful wrath of Hermione Jean Granger.

Draco: Do it anyway. I’m ready.

Hermione: I know. You mentioned being amused by the trainwreck of my life already.

Draco: Fascinated. ( _pause)_ Run away with me.

Hermione: Shut your mouth.

Draco: Please. _(He grabs her hand.)_ We can go away and this will all pass. Let me help you. I know I’ve mucked this all up, and I wanted it to be different. Gradual maybe, certainly not in a time where you’re hurting. I’ve been waiting for you to be free from him, watching him drag you deeper into his insignificance. He dulls the magnificence of your glow and limits the heights that you can reach. You should be soaring, unencumbered by his mediocrity. Even before the cheating, he had you moving down his path toward mundanity.

Hermione: _(Gently takes her hand back.)_ Well, maybe I’m ready for the mundane. I’ve been painted as extraordinary or peculiar my whole life. Some years of mundanity wouldn’t have killed me. It might actually have done the opposite. So much of my life has been about overcoming and struggling. Your life too! That I survived was exceptional and that I found love was impossible, even if it is scorched earth now.

Draco: Mundanity would certainly be the death of a part of you, Granger.

Hermione: Stop saying my name like that. Like you... As if you-

Draco: Care? Love you? Have been fighting my own inadequacy in the face of your glory? I know I am the dirt, the Weasel is right, but-

Hermione: Stop it. I don’t want your words. I don’t need some sycophant telling me I’m the future of wizardkind or that I’m superior. I just wanted a partner, and Ron and I were always good partners. 

Draco: You were a tutor, a conscience, a mother, a placeholder, but never a partner. Sure, he was adjacent and sometimes involved with defeating the Dark Lord, but you need more than questionable moral support to create a partnership. _(He strokes her cheek lightly, and they lock eyes.)_ You deserve to be respected and challenged, cherished and guarded, complemented and enhanced. 

Hermione: And you can do those things? _(She grasps his hand, moving it from her face, but not releasing it.)_

Draco: I’d bloody well like to try. _(He takes her hand in both of his.)_ I’d certainly put more effort into it than that bastard did. I’m not a sycophant. I wouldn’t deify you, but I would respect and appreciate you. I wouldn’t guard you jealously or hide you away. I want to give you a safe harbor from your storms. I would fight for your well-being, even against yourself, and strive to be all the things that you lack. I would love you despite your flaws and never make you feel they are less than aspects of your perfection in my eyes. Weasley may be right. I may be the dirt, but I would give you a warm, nurturing place to grow.

Hermione: _(She pulls her hand back.)_ Why is everyone obsessed with plant metaphors?

Draco: It _is_ the Harvest Ball and you have holed up in my garden. 

Hermione: This whole night is insane. You’re insane. We couldn’t-

Draco: _(He steadies her by her upper arms.)_ Shh… Yes, obviously. But do something insane with me anyway. We won’t go back into the party, we’ll just slip away into the night. Spend some more time in this limbo where you get to be nothing but Hermione Jean Granger, a Muggle-born and a goddess. We’ll go to an island, ignore the press until you’re ready to deal with it. We can-

Hermione: Greece.

Draco: What?

Hermione: Take me to Greece, Draco.

Draco: You said my first name.

Hermione: I also said I’ll go with you.

Draco: Yes! Yes, you did. _(He embraces her, then pulls back to search her face.)_ Are you sure?

Hermione: I… I’m going to do something insane, but maybe the warmth of the islands, maybe your safe harbor will help me weather this storm. 

Draco: Malfoys are especially good at weathering storms.

Hermione: True. ( _pause_ ) _(she lifts a tentative hand to his face.)_ I don’t know if I can give you what you’re looking for.

Draco: I know. I want you to heal, but I know I can’t heal you. I am not so arrogant to think I can cure you of your pain.

Hermione: ( _scoffs_ )

Draco: Fine, I am. But whatever you give me, I will take. Even if it’s just accepting my hospitality, even if it’s just sticking it to that weasel. 

Hermione: What’s the worst that could happen?

Draco: Death, or worse mundanity. ( _pause_ ) _(He pulls her tighter into his arms.)_ What’s the best that could happen?

Hermione: You could take care of me. I could fall to little emotional pieces on an hourly basis and you could let me. I could let the sea breezes and salty shores nurse me back to a semblance of myself. I could find a new way to live and laugh again, returning to England triumphantly to strike fear into the heart of the Wizengamot. _(Long pause as she searches his face, hand tracing his features.)_ And maybe, I could fall in love with Draco Malfoy.

Draco: That’s more than I could ever hope for. _Accio Firebolt!_ ( _Firebolt arrives_ )

Hermione: Oh, by broom? Right now?

Draco: Yes, before you change your mind, before the spell of the equinox and the garden is broken. ( _Mounts broom and holds a hand out to her._ )

Hermione: Well, of course. ( _glances back to the balcony and the party, glances around the garden, finally notices the house elves who are ecstatic._ ) Well, fuck. ( _climbs in front of him on the broom, turns to look back at him_ ) Just to outside the wards. We should Apparate from there and then get a Portkey- ( _He kisses her)_

Draco: This is my rescue plan. Don’t be a bossy swot.

Hermione: Don’t drop me. And don’t fly us into anything.

Draco: Of course not.

_T_ _hey fly off._

_The elves Exodos (that means exit while being poetic)._

Truly the equinox resets the balance,

The turning wheel of warmth and cold.

The time of the harvest closes nigh,

And the cruel winter takes its hold.

The constant battle of the seasons,

Always equal for two days a year.

The light and the dark dance in time,

And the people huddle near.

Can your darkness keep you warm

When it fills and floods your form?

Theseus lived a life of loss and pain

After his betrayal, never making a gain.

Broken and bereft Ariadne fair

Was rescued from her great despair.

She lived among gods from then on

And Dionysus gave her a new dawn.

  
  


At their wedding, she was given a crown,

A crown of stars, as Dionysus’ queen.

He hung them high in the night sky, 

A sacred symbol of his love to be seen.

When children fight a war, fight their birth,

They grow into broken people of strength,

With the drive and courage to face anything,

And also to heal by any length.

When loss turns a heart to fallow earth

Can love take hold and grow to mirth?

Can a Pureblood prince, a legacy of dark,

Fan a fire in our heroine from a spark?

Despite a past of suffering and shame,

Is there a chance for precious love to flame?

Aristotle and the Poetics would agree. 

It is probable that the improbable will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for braving through what I'm sure is a new/rare medium for Dramione! The language is deliberately flowery, and the poetry is probably a bit much, but stretching my wings (and the vastly underused knowledge from my expensive college days) has been quite an adventure. Thanks so much! I look forward to your feedback. I am also playing around with recording a dramatic reading of Hermione's Soliloquy from Scene 3 to illuminate the work.


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